A Moonlit Flight
by HeroSong
Summary: An imagined scene based on S5E7 of HTTYD: RTTE. When Hiccup and Astrid travel overnight together for the first time since becoming a couple, they embark on more than just a mission to acquire an ingredient for Hiccup's new Dragon Eye. Without their friends around, it's easy to get closer than ever before...or is it? This is a Hiccstrid one-shot lime/fluff romance with adult themes.


"If you want to head back…" Astrid said, her fingers tightening around the bouquet of sassafras. She looked up at him, a question in her clear blue eyes.

"No!" Hiccup said quickly. "No, no. I mean, they're fine. Think about all the trouble they can get into without us being there."

They both looked away, considering the truth of his words. Without the presence of his level-headed authority and her careful vigilance, the friends they'd left at the Edge really _might_ get themselves into a dangerous predicament. He'd be lucky if they returned to find their homes still standing—and Fishlegs not locked up in the prison while Snotlout turned his Zen garden into a gaming field for the twins to use for dung-throwing practice.

Hiccup looked back at Astrid. She met his eyes and laughed lightly, a blush dusting her cheeks with pink. It was so _rare_ to see that. She was always so confident, so sure of herself. In moments like these, when he saw the softness underneath, the natural uncertainty she felt at this new stage of their relationship….

Thor. The others might get into some trouble, but that was a risk he was willing to take. It was worth almost anything to be alone with this girl—woman—who managed to seem as mysterious as the heavens and as familiar as home, all at once.

"Well," said Hiccup, taking her hands and spinning her around to settle inside the circle of his arms. "As long as we're staying…what do you say we take a moonlit flight?"

She rested briefly against his chest, her hair brushing his chin. The smell of her, a heady mix of leather, sweat, and flowered soap, drifted upward and caused an instant flush of blood and heat to rush downward. Before he could wrap his arms around her and pull her closer, she twisted around and grabbed the straps of his cuirass. She leaned in, rising on her toes to speak huskily, mere inches from his mouth.

"I thought you'd never ask."

And then she jerked him off balance and tripped him onto the ground.

"Ha!" she laughed, holding her stomach. " _How_ do you not see that coming, _every_ time?"

He accepted her outstretched hand and rose to his feet, dusting off his breeches. "Yeah, yeah," he said casually, reaching to retrieve the stems of sassafras albidum she'd dropped. "Hold on to this feeling, Hofferson. You won't be laughing when you can't keep up."

She placed her hands on her hips and cocked her head, assuming a posture he knew all too well. "When _I_ can't keep up? I thought this was going to be a _romantic_ moonlit flight?"

"What's unromantic about a little friendly competition? I'll race you around the island. Last one to land back here has to make dinner."

She nodded. "Good idea. You're way better at cooking than I am. This'll work out great."

He narrowed his eyes. "I like my apple sausage warm and my flatbread drizzled with honey. You may want to write that down for when you're making dinner later."

Astrid turned and started toward Stormfly, tossing her braid with no small amount of sass. "I have a feeling your sausage is going to end up _cold_ no matter who wins, Hiccup Haddock."

He grinned and ran after her, playfully shoving her off course when he drew alongside. He felt a twinge of worry when she stumbled and almost tripped, but she recovered deftly and threw him an acid glare. Somehow, that threatening look made him feel giddy and hot instead of terrified as it once had. He ran the rest of the way to Toothless, who'd been busy using his tail to draw a picture in the dirt, and leaped into the saddle. He raised his eyebrows toward Astrid as she vaulted onto Stormfly's back.

"Oh, and Astrid? I don't mind a cold sausage, so long as you keep the honey warm for me."

He got to enjoy a half second of her shocked expression before Toothless crouched low and then launched forward.

"Let's go, bud!"

Toothless loped toward the edge of the cliff, his fluid, muscular body chomping up the distance in moments. Air rushed around Hiccup's face as the Night Fury leaped off, wings flicking out to either side, tail fin snapping taut as Hiccup twisted the mechanism attached to his stirrup. They glided forward for a few seconds before Toothless flapped his wings, lifting them higher. He twisted midair, tucked his wings in close, and broke left. Hiccup heard Stormfly close behind, the Nadder's distinctive, clicking call announcing her irritation.

The two dragons stayed close as they raced, one pulling ahead for a while and then falling behind as they found chances to use their respective strengths to gain an advantage. The choppy waves below blended into a monotone canvas of dark blue as they zoomed overhead, the sun slowly sinking into the horizon. The Isle of Thizzian was big—albeit smaller than Outpost Island—but few islands in the archipelago were large enough to feel daunting to a dragon rider.

In half an hour, they'd nearly completed their circuit of the isle. Blinking away tears, Hiccup peered ahead and recognized the profile of the cliffs; they were almost finished. He glanced to the side and saw Astrid hunkered low in her saddle, wisps of golden hair flying free of her braid. She glared straight ahead with a determined set to her jaw. The way she shifted left or right, reaching down to pat a signal to Stormfly, her muttered words stolen by the wind but audible of the sensitive ears of the Nadder…she was a perfect dragon rider. She knew the sound of her dragon's wings when they sliced through colder air, or the hint of upward resistance when they flew over an updraft. They turned their dragons simultaneously, angling toward their destination, and she entered a dive, pulling ahead. Thor, she was good.

Almost as good as he was.

He whispered to Toothless and adjusted his prosthetic foot in the stirrup. The Night Fury's fins shifted and he _shot_ forward. His mouth trailed streams of eerie purple light as a low whistling sound faded into the wind. Hiccup and Toothless dove, gaining speed, and passed Astrid and Stormfly in a black and violet blur. The cliff grew large in Hiccup's vision as they streamed toward the land. He gritted his teeth, waiting, estimating, and then, when only twenty feet from landing, he pulled Toothless up. The black dragon flipped upward, a gleeful bleat issuing from his throat, and Hiccup was treated to the familiar sensation of his stomach falling toward his head as they spun in a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree circle. Stormfly shot underneath them while Toothless was upside down and collided gracefully with the ground. As Toothless came right side up and Hiccup's vision adjusted, he saw a cloud of dust puff into the air as the Nadder's claws skidded across the dirt. Toothless alighted silently on the edge of the cliff. Hiccup jumped down, heart racing, mind cycling through all the pithy comments at his disposal.

"I _hate_ it when you do that!" Astrid yelled, swinging her leg over Stormfly's saddle and dropping to the ground. Without missing a step, she strode toward him, hands fisted.

Hiccup backed away, reacting instinctively to the danger simmering in her eyes. "What?" he asked innocently, hands raised. "What did I do? You won, fair and square."

"I most certainly did _not_ , and you know it." She shoved him back and he stumbled precariously close to the cliff edge. Her cheeks flushed with anger and she stopped with a huff. "If you _let_ me win, it's not really winning. How am I supposed to get better, get _faster_ , if you won't give me a real race?"

Hiccup glanced over to Toothless, who blinked at him with those expressive green eyes as if to say, _"What? You got yourself into this mess."_

He sighed and looked back at Astrid. "Listen, I just—I actually thought it would be, you know, kind of _sweet_. Like, we both know that Night Furies are the fastest dragons. You can't win a race against us, regardless of skill. Which—" he said quickly, "you clearly possess more of."

She huffed again and crossed her arms. Moments passed, tense, carried on the tide of her irritation and his sincerity. Finally, her shoulders dropped. She let out a breath and dropped her arms.

"Fine. Okay. Whatever. I guess…I guess it's better I win, anyway." She glanced at him, obviously trying hard to let go of her hard feelings, and struggling. "You _are_ the better cook."

Hiccup relaxed. He flashed her a crooked smile—the one he knew she liked—and dared a step closer. She held firm for another moment, then softened, leaning toward him. He didn't hesitate. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. Her arms coiled around his waist and she laid her head against his chest. They were both still breathing heavily from the exertion of the ride, and it didn't take long for their breaths to sync, rising and falling together. Hiccup closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of her, feeling the warmth of her body, pressed so close to his.

"Astrid?" he asked softly.

"What?"

"I only have one question for you."

"Yeah?"

"How do you like your sausage?"

She snorted a laugh into the leather armor covering his chest. He grinned above her head, glad she was ready to find the humor instead of taking offense or mocking his infantile jokes.

"Come on, you big idiot," she said teasingly, pulling away.

They settled into the routine of setting up camp for the night. They'd done it hundreds of times, though never with just the two of them. Usually, they traveled in groups of four or more, and despite the extra hands, Hiccup always ended up having to shout each person into performing their designated chores. Ruff and Tuff tended to wander away from their tasks, waxing poetic about the nature of the group dynamic, and Fishlegs would get distracted by a rock or a plant and forget his duty. And Snotlout, well…Snotlout almost never did anything useful, no matter who shouted at him.

Without their companions, it should have taken forever to get camp set up, but to Hiccup's surprise, they had everything squared away in short time. They worked well together, rarely needing to communicate. By the time the sun had nearly drowned in the western sea, they had a blazing fire going, two tents erected on opposite sides, and their dragons rubbed down and resting.

Hiccup methodically unpacked their food supplies, laying out a row of lamb and apple sausages, unleavened flatbread, jars of mashed root vegetables, and crocks of butter and honey. He couldn't help but follow Astrid's movements as she dropped her bedroll and pack into her tent on the other side of the fire. He wasn't _surprised_ that she'd brought her own tent, but…he'd kind of hoped this might be the first time they shared _one_ tent. They'd never traveled overnight alone before. In the past, the close—and unforgettable—proximity of their friends had prevented them from doing more than sneaking their bedrolls close for midnight snuggles. They'd kissed, and their hands had…wandered. But nothing serious had come of it. He'd thought that, maybe, on this two-day trip to the Isle of Thizzian to collect the oil Hiccup needed for his Dragon Eye project, they might finally be able to do _more_.

He felt guilty just thinking of it. What was wrong with him? Of _course_ Astrid had brought her own tent. They'd exchanged betrothal gifts—sort of—but traditionally, they weren't supposed to spend the night together unless Hiccup formally addressed her father or they were actually wed. The idea of the former made Hiccup cringe just to consider, and the latter…. Despite it being what they both wanted, a wedding was a long way off. There was too much to do, and there were too many enemies to fight, for it to be conceivable at present.

Still. He was a man. He knew everyone thought he was overly sensitive, and that he cracked jokes and goofed off whenever the occasion presented itself. But there was only so much of Astrid he could take. Being near her, even in so innocuous a scenario as this, he couldn't help but _want_ her. And not in a sweet, juvenile, hesitant sort of way. He _wanted_ her. He wanted to kiss her so hard she couldn't think. He wanted to push her against a tree, or a rock, or—Thor, anything!—and slide his hand under her leather skirts. He wanted to feel the forbidden heat of her around his fingers, to give her the pleasure he'd heard men speak of women sometimes finding. He wanted to tell her he loved her and hear her call his name as they found that pleasure together.

Clearing his throat, Hiccup brushed dust off of the rocks near the fire to create a clean warming spot for the flatbread. He'd let his mind wander too far— _again_ —and now his breeches were uncomfortably tight as his manhood swelled and throbbed. He shifted his squatting position near the fire, hoping Astrid wouldn't look over and notice the conspicuous bulge. Gods. What was he, an animal? Couldn't he keep his thoughts on something more elevated, like how intelligent and brave and capable she was, instead of how ridiculously appealing the curve of her calves looked in her tight leggings?

"Hey, I said I like it hot, not burned!"

Hiccup started, surfacing from his reverie, to find that he'd stuck a sausage on a stick and then sat there with it over the flames, like a moron, until it had nearly caught fire.

"Whoa!" he jerked the stick back. Grease dripped from the sausage and sizzled on the burning logs. "Sorry," he mumbled. Using a square of flatbread, he carefully pulled the sausage off the end and wrapped it up. He placed it on a thin wooden plate he'd brought as a luxurious addition to their kit and then spooned heaps of mashed vegetables, butter, and honey beside it.

He summoned a grin and held the plate out to her. "For you, milady. One hot meal, awarded to you as the victor of the race of dragons."

She eyed him, clearly considering a sharp retort, then pressed her lips together. " _Thank_ you, oh future chieftain of our great tribe."

He bowed his head in mock magnanimity and then proceeded to warm up his own dinner. They ate together in peaceable silence, occasionally conversing about tasks they needed to finish at the Edge, or the latest gossip from Berk, or how Fishlegs might be progressing on the annual dragon census. Finally, when they'd finished eating and cleaned up, Hiccup stood and stretched.

"I'd better fly Toothless down to the water to find some fish," he said.

She nodded. "Alright. I'll just go to the stream to wash up and then turn in. Good night!"

Hiccup hid his disappointment as she whirled away. Was she nervous to be alone with him? Surely not. They were best friends. They were more comfortable together than apart. Had she guessed what he'd been thinking earlier, and been frightened? That didn't feel like Astrid.

Sighing, he walked over to Toothless. "You know what, bud? Sometimes, I think I don't know half as much as I think I do.

The Night Fury croaked in agreement, then affectionately nudged his shoulder with a giant, scaled nose. Hiccup flew him down to the coast below the cliff, obligingly operating the dragon's prosthetic tail fin to maneuver them close to the surf. When Toothless had plucked eight or nine silvery fish from the water and gulped them down, they returned to the cliff top.

The fire still blazed, indicating that Astrid had stoked it and added some wood. She was nowhere to be seen, though, and he assumed she'd disappeared into her tent for the night. That was strange—even with the added anxiety of them being alone, and of not quite knowing how to behave without the de facto chaperoning of their friends, he'd hoped she would at least kiss him goodnight. He forced himself to adjust his expectations as he unsaddled Toothless and made his way to the stream to clean up. He'd never quite managed to take pride in being sweaty and odorous the way some Viking men did—and besides, the chilly water helped to clear his thoughts and sober up his more primal instincts. He stripped off his leather and metal armor, followed by his dark red shirt and breeches. It felt good to be free of their weight, to let the cold water and pert breeze enliven his skin.

He was still rubbing a towel through his unruly hair when he returned to camp. Wearing only a laced pair of under breeches, he draped the towel around his bare shoulders and pulled back the flap of his tent.

He froze, eyes going wide.

Astrid was inside, laying on her side on a thick, white blanket of shaggy fur. A small part of his brain wondered where she'd packed the bulky thing to keep it out of sight, but the larger part—and it was growing to be _much_ larger—could only stare.

She wasn't wearing her armor. In fact, the only thing she wore was a thin, cream-colored night gown with a wide neck that draped down over one bare shoulder. Long, slim, muscular legs stretched out from the hem, bunched up around her mid-thighs. And her hair—oh, Gods, her hair was unbound. It fell around her face in nearly two feet of waving, shining, golden silk.

"Holy Thor," he breathed, and he sounded like he'd truly seen Valhalla.

Astrid bit her lower lip and blushed, laughing slightly. She gestured weakly with the hand that wasn't propping up her head. "Is this—do I look—"

"You are everything," Hiccup said, his voice lower and huskier than usual.

She blushed even deeper and threw herself back onto the white fur. "Gods! I planned this for so long, and now I—I feel like a mutton head."

Hiccup ducked inside and let the flap close behind him. The light from the fire glowed through the thick canvas of the tent, casting the interior into dark amber shadows. Without hesitation, he went down on hands and knees and moved toward her. He crawled half on top of her, careful to keep his body from pressing against her in any way that would feel presumptuous, and his hands found her face in the half-light. Her skin was hot with anxiety.

"Astrid Hofferson," he said quietly. "I love you. You are absolutely perfect. You are grace and beauty and courage. You are warmth and strength and heart. You are everything to me. There is nothing you could do—or not do—that would change that. I'm here for the whole thing. Our whole lives. Nothing has to happen tonight."

She'd gone very still while he spoke. When he finished, she exhaled softly, her body melting beneath him. "And just when I'd thought I'd made a mistake, that we shouldn't do this, you go and say _that_." She groaned, and for the first time, he heard something like the lust he often felt mirrored in her voice. She grasped the towel draped around either side of his neck and pulled him down to her mouth. When his lips met hers, soft and yielding, it felt like the first time. It always felt like the first time.

She kissed him slowly, leisurely, one hand slipping around the back of his head, the other sliding down his back. When her palm reached the small of his back, she pulled him down and bucked her hips up to meet him. Part of his weight sagged onto the knee pressed between her legs and his groin grated against her, instantly hardening to a density somewhere between stone and iron.

He groaned raggedly into her mouth and he felt her lips turn up into a smile. She pulled him closer, hands sliding around to caress his bare back, his chest, his navel. Her fingers curled over the top of his under breeches and began to deftly tug at the laces. She pulled away and stared up at him, her face a stunning, arousing silhouette. When she spoke, he could hear the passion and humor in her voice.

"As long as you're staying," she whispered. "What do you say we…?"

He ran the back of one hand down the side of her cheek, over her jaw, down her neck. His fingers slid over her collarbone and traced the curve of her bared shoulder. Her breath caught in her throat as he grabbed the neckline of her night gown and pulled it down, slowly, until it slid off of her shoulders.

"I thought you'd never ask," he replied.


End file.
